


Procrastination (Or, The One in which Kravitz Really Does Need To Study)

by MercuryHomophony



Series: Behold the Field in Which I store my Headcannons (TAZ) [15]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Coffee Shops, First Meetings, Gen, M/M, Meet-Cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-22
Updated: 2018-09-22
Packaged: 2019-07-15 15:50:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16066346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MercuryHomophony/pseuds/MercuryHomophony
Summary: The only thought that Kravitz has right now is that he cannot. Can. Not. Afford to fail this test.Unfortunately, that thought is drowning out literally every other thought. Including any thought that would help him keep studying.





	Procrastination (Or, The One in which Kravitz Really Does Need To Study)

“Here ya go, handsome - didn’t know what you like, but I sorta pegged you for the spicy-and-sweet deal. You aren’t lactose intolerant, right?”

Kravitz stared mutely at the large coffee cup that had abruptly appeared between him and his textbook, frozen. When he didn’t move, the hand holding it out to him wiggled it just slightly, and he moved with the sudden panic of a student whose notes were being threatened with coffee stains, pushing his books and papers out of the way. “There we go,” that same lilting voice announced, setting the cup down on the now cleared tabletop. “Thought you weren’t gonna take it for a moment, there.”

Slowly, Kravitz’s aching eyes traveled up, blinking to adjust after staring nearsightedly for so long. The owner of the voice had slung himself into the chair across from him, slouched with his shoulders nearly level with the back of the chair, his own coffee clutched in a hand with immaculately manicured fingernails - rainbows with glitter. He was as distracting and disconcerting as his voice - deep olive skin, violet eyes, and shockingly blond hair that draped in wavy kinks down one side of a plump face. He raised one eyebrow, sipping his coffee, and Kravitz realized he’d been staring, mouth agape, while this stranger made himself comfortable waiting for a response.

“I’m - I’m sorry,” he started slowly, putting his notebook back on the table, away from the drink, “but, um… do I know you?”

The man shrugged. “Maybe. I mean, I’ve seen your mug around campus, but it’s like, a big place.” He tilted his head, letting his hair slide forward, before tossing it showily over one shoulder, giving him a buck-toothed smile. “You can’t tell my you’ve missed someone _this_ good-looking walking ‘cross the quad.”

Kravitz felt his cheeks heat, and he hoped his complexion hid the oncoming blush. “I- er, no,” he fumbled, “I don’t really- why are you here?”

If his new companion was disappointed by his lack of recognition, he didn’t show it. Instead, he took a long sip from his own drink, and Kravitz watched as his eyes fell shut, noticed the red and orange dust of eyeshadow, the crisp black lines of eyeliner wings and mascaraed lashes. When those violet eyes opened again, Kravitz looked away, but not quickly enough - he caught the mischievous sparkle in the man’s eyes. “What, a guy can’t buy a drink for a fellow procrastinator?”

“I’m not procrastinating,” he protested immediately. He wasn’t. He had a big test coming up in his history of music class, and as much as he loved music and composition and theory, he was absolute balls at history. He couldn't’ afford to fail, though - the course was required for music majors, and besides, it was only a 100-level class. Easy stuff, right?

Which was why he was studying, and had been for hours, now. Sure, maybe he hadn’t turned the page in a few minutes, and maybe the words had all started to turn to noodles on the page, but he was trying, dammit. No procrastination here.

His erstwhile distraction looked as though he were about to make a snide comment, but something in Kravitz’s expression (the mania, the desperation, the gut-dropping horror of knowing he was doomed to fail, no matter how hard he tried, perhaps?) actually made him hesitate, and his expression flickered for the first time with something other than fully self-satisfied confidence. “Alright, so maybe not procrastinating,” he muttered into his own coffee, reaching out and carefully pushing the offered drink closer. “But, like, all the more reason to take a break for yourself, right? Looks like you need it.”

“You still didn’t answer my question,” Kravitz said, grasping for control of this conversation. “Why are you here?”

This time, his query did pull a frown from his companion, and the man huffed, sliding somehow further down in his chair in a sulk. “Well, I _thought_ I’d do something nice and help out a fellow student in need, y’know, school spirit solidarity and all that shit, but-”

“You’re the one procrastinating,” Kravitz interrupted with sudden realization, and felt a shot of vindictive glee when the man flushed. “ _You_ _’re_ supposed to be working on something, and instead of actually _doing_ it, you’re - sitting around, harassing other students who are trying to study?”

He couldn’t keep the accusatory tone from his voice, and he wouldn’t have been surprised if this other student got mad at him… but to his surprise, he just seemed… embarrassed? “Hey, now, listen,” he hedged, sounding so on the defense that Kravitz had to bite back a laugh, “Look, my- my group is working on a project, and they don’t need ol’ Taako for this bit, and they’ve been going on for like, an hour-”

Kravitz scanned the rest of the cafe as he (Taako?) talked, almost immediately catching sight of a table with four other people at it, a woman near identical to Taako, a huge bear of a man, a portly senior with a mullet and jeans, and what appeared to be a literal child. The woman and the huge man kept glancing over at the two of them, but when they caught him looking back, they snapped their gaze back to their table, shouldering each other and whispering. His gut sank with the familiar anxiety of someone who’d been at the rough end of too many practical jokes.

“So, rather than entertain yourself,” he said, cutting off Taako’s continued chatter, “you thought you’d come have a laugh at some other student’s expense?”

“I- what?” Taako looked legitimately bewildered by that, to Kravitz’s paradoxical chagrin and amusement. “What laugh, I- Look, okay, so. Maybe I got off to a bad start. Lemmie try again?”

Kravitz pushed his glasses up, pinching the bridge of his nose to stave off either an annoyance headache or a reading headache. He had the feeling Taako wouldn’t take no for an answer, so, “Sure, whatever, I guess.”

“Cool cool cool,” Taako said, breezing over his annoyance with a wave of his hand that shouldn’t have been so damn charming. “Alright, so- Hello handsome, my name is _Taako_ , you know, from Campus TV?” He did that little hair flip again, smiling winningly - no, not winningly, _annoyingly_ , damn him, and it suddenly clicked in Kravitz’s head.

“Sizzle it up,” he said. Taako beamed. “You do that college kitchenette cooking show.”

“So you _have_ seen my work before,” he preened, leaning forward on his elbow and cradling his chin in one hand, grinning. “So, you have my handle, hottie, what’s yours?”

“I- it’s Kravitz- did you just-?”

“Kravitz? Bomb name, dude. You, uh, might want to drink that before it gets cold.”

Stunned, Kravitz finally picked up the cup. It radiated heat into his otherwise chilled hands, so he cradled it for a moment, looking down at it, puzzling. Taako had just called him a hottie, and hadn’t he said handsome, earlier? He looked up again, and Taako sent him a lazy wink, still leering from across the table.

“Are- are you flirting with me?”

“That depends,” Taako said, tapping the fingers of his free hand against his coffee cup. “Is it working?”

“Maybe?” Kravitz said, still baffled. He couldn’t do this, he’d just spent the last four hours trying to study for this test, he didn’t have the necessary braincells remaining to deal with a weirdly cute, frustrating puzzle of a man teasing him. “I mean… sort of a weird way to go about it?”

“Well, I wasn’t lying earlier when I said I got you that mocha in procrastination solidarity. You’ve been staring at that page for like, a sold five minutes, m’dude. I needed to get away from my group, you looked like you needed a break, and your face? Does _not_ hurt matters.”

Kravitz just stared at him. Taako stared back, taking a long sip of his coffee, not even blinking.

“I… don’t know what to do with that information?”

Taako snorted, lips twitching up at the edges. “Man, you’ve really got study brain, huh? Tell you what- why don’t we finish our drinks, then we can-”

Whatever he was going to suggest was cut off as he was suddenly bodily plucked from his chair by the scruff of his hoodie, like a kitten by a large St. Bernard - or, in this case, the human equivalent, in the form of Taako’s groupmate.

“Hey Taako, we’re heading out - sorry to interrupt,” the huge man said, turning to Kravitz and giving him a placating smile, “but we need our digital wizard back.”

“Maggie, I swear to god-!”

“Nope! You made us do all the work here so far, so now it’s your turn!” He started dragging Taako off, giving Kravitz a wave and a “See you around!” much to the amusement of the rest of their group, who was waiting by the door. The last Kravitz saw of Taako was an exaggerated ‘call me!’ gesture, before he vanished.

He sat there for a minute in confusion, his brain working to get back up to speed with the real world. The cup was still warm in his hands, and without really thinking, he brought it to his lips, taking a careful sip. Chocolate and coffee, blended, met his tongue… but with a sharp bite beneath is… cayenne? Pepper of some sort, certainly, gave the chocolate a complimentary spice. It was… interesting. Odd, but not unpleasant.

Much like the man who’d given it to him.

He glanced back to his notebooks and sighed, putting the cup aside and starting to pack up. Taako had been right about one thing - he needed a break. Maybe after an hour or so jamming, he could do some actual, productive studying.

It wasn’t until he was all packed, and he went to retrieve his mocha, that he noticed the scrawled numbers on the side. And, after a long deliberation, he sighed, pulled out his phone, and began to type.

 

_So. Any plans for after you finish your groupwork?_

**Author's Note:**

> *jazz hands* I'm supposed to be working on thesissssss yah~  
> This is just a little bit of writing to keep me from going crazy in the meantime.


End file.
